Jen

"Can I see the rest of your tattoo?" the girl standing behind me in the line at Blockbuster asks me on this lonesome Friday night.

"Uhm, ya," I answer, glancing around to see how many people are looking as I lift up my shirt and feel rather publically naked.  It happens... a lot.

Once she takes a good look at my artwork (or the horrific tragedy I put on my already perfect body as my mom would put it), she responds with, "That is so cool!  That must've hurt!  How many sittings?  How much did it cost?"

She never asks me what it means, rarely does anyone.

Now, if you don't know me or the backside of me (odd?) very well, I'll briefly summarize.. My entire back is tattooed as one black & grey peice; a flock of doves flying up and out of an old, gothic city comprised of cobble stone, rolling hills, a church and a school.  The land and buildings below represent my society, my influences.  My journey is the flight of the flock and I am the top dove highest in the sky essentially, escaping.  In order to know who I am, what I believe and what I am made of, flying away from it all is a must.

I can be free to be myself.

That was the epiphany I had a few years ago, back when I was a frustrated, sad bird wandering on the ground of this city, being told what to think, what to do, what is black and what is white.  One day, I woke up and found all shades of grey and suddenly, I could fly.  And I did.  Away from university, becoming a teacher, my religion, my town, my home, the bars built within my own self..

Maybe that all sounds like a cheesy movie picked up from Blockbuster on a lonesome Friday night.  But that's alright because I like cheese (especially Jalapeno Havarti if you're ever wondering) and because I am happy.

Now, I met Jen when I was shooting/she was modeling for Chickenware (a few posts down).  Myself barely reaching 5'4 and her at 5'11, Jen could just about tower over me with all of her fabulousness.  We recently headed down to a cool little place my hubs discovered in Chilliwack and took some shots for her portfolio.  The following portraits of Jen to me, seep with bold beauty, strength, confidence and the readiness to chase her dreams.

To her, to you, to all of us - I say, go for it.  Fly.

Milly: Judy

My tummy is gurgling.. more like rumbling and growling and attacking my body.  I need food.  I look up at the green glowing digits on the stove.  6:52.  Lame, Travis is late coming home from work again.  Wife = sad.  And hungry.  I whip open my beat up cell phone and speed dial (yes, I'm needy) and get his voicemail.  Crap, mailbox is full.. Argghhh.

20 minutes later, Soda is at the front door yodeling like a mad.. yodeler?  Slurpee strains himself to get up off the couch to see what all the commotion is about.  Daddy's truck has pulled into the driveway.. yay!

After devouring some delicious vegetarian lasagna like we're two Garfields, I remember to tell Travis his mailbox is full.  Ritualistically, he grabs a pad of paper and a pen, pulls out his phone and starts jotting down a work message + a work message + a work message + a buddy beer invite message + a work message + ...he stops writing and just smiles and listens.

I just called to say I love you.

I just called to say how much I care.

I just called to say I love you.

And I mean it from the bottom of my heart.

Sung with his momma's beautiful voice, it's Stevie Wonder.

Once he hangs up, Travis tells me how his mom every so often, leaves that same message singing that famous chorus to him.  He goes on to say, "Y'know, whenever I'm checking my voicemail at work or around the guys and this message from her begins to play, I kind of glance around to make sure nobody can hear cos I know it should be kind of embarrasing that my mom calls to sing to me but.. I really love it.  It always makes my day."

This conversation with Trav was so timely in that I happened to be posting some images of a recent shoot I did with his mom (and him in a few).  I asked if it would be okay if I mentioned this little story on my blog and being the sweetest hubby that he is, he nodded.  Take a look at one sweet momma, my MIL or Milly..

PS.  Milly is a wonderful, wonderful singer.

Gracie

I have writer's block.

My fingers are itching to type

and yet..

[crickets]

Often the photographs I post give me inspiration,

a starting point,

to write a little something on the blog.

This shoot is no exception.

Baby Gracie is undeniably adorable.

Looking through these images..

Strikes a chord of maternal instict in me.

Excites me as I dream of being a mom one day.

Even brings me back to thoughts

of my own mother,

of her love.

Takes me back to the weekday afternoons spent

at Gracie's momma's house

when I was a child.

Reminds me of times sitting in art class in university,

Jacine (Gracie's momma) and I

gushing over our now-husbands.

Blows my mind that Jacine now has children.. plural.

Makes me think how the time has flown.

All these thoughts

but not enough consciousness to expand

on any.

My brain is blocked

with tiredness.

Must nap.

The end.

(Zzzz.)

PS. Jacine (and Tyler and Janis), your family is wonderful and I am soo happy for you.